Haute Couture Fall2014: The Valentino Method !!!

All this talk about the past vs. the present, the old world vs. the new, Couture that addresses the now is what many espouse and precious few deliver. One could argue that new is the new old, but honestly it isn't. There's old and new but the bulk of what constitutes the new is only a gaping grey area, a mountain of scraps of this and that in a dull mix filling slop buckets to overflowing. The same slop bucket is what feeds most of our authorities on the subject.


At a discussion the other night after a screening of the Diana Vreeland film, "The Eye has to travel" by Lisa Imordino Vreeland, China Machado a famous model who worked with Balenciaga and then Givenchy was asked by a person in the audience if there exists an editor in chief of any major fashion magazine who has a vision that approaches that of Mrs.Vreeland. Unequivocally, China all but shouted, "NO". There's no room now for that when all that matters is the bottom line. "MONEY has killed what once was", she lamented to an audience that sat silently.

So what does it take to cut through the fetid cloud of mediocrity? As much as vision is of the utmost importance, it's a commitment to a path that moves ever forward that is the soul of the new. I'll go a step further and say that the designer who looks inward has a gravitas that the others who play to the crowd don't. Code fixated designers choking on a house's DNA have little room to move. Exceptions exist and that would be Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pierpaulo Piccioli of Valentino.

From almost the beginning, there's has been a contribution that is at once true to the grandeur of Valentino but goes steadily forward. The glamour associated with Valentino Garavanni's lexicon of exquisite luxury is the backbone that informs the new team. The techniques of the atelier at the fabled house remain in practice but turned to address a new aesthetic, one that is based in the now. Evening dresses and cocktail dresses are possessed of the same integrity and impeccable workmanship but distilled in a way that applies to women today, the working, the pampered and the young and old.

Whether its tailored jackets, suits, coats or draped dresses in chiffon, jersey, etc. the skill is apparent. Even in the sportswear looks, they too are imbued with couture technique of the highest order. The breadth of the collection is another difference from many other Haute Couture collections.

Whether bold graphics, completely new ways of handling lace, embroideries that suggest an odd romanticism vs. conventional sap add evermore mystery. Color is another element in the mix that arrests the eye. Combinations of color, often muted creates a mood, a feeling that touches the wearer and viewer in much the same way. It's an effect that draws one in, making one hungry to see more. Shapes are so varied that most women are included with a symphony of ideas, not 1 or 2 notes only. This is not Chopsticks but a Rachmaninoff piano concerto with full orchestra.

What speaks loudest is the fearlessness with which they work. Perhaps there's strength in numbers but I would hazard that their partnership is based on mutual respect and admiration. Even better, Valentino and Giancarlo Giametti applaud louder than the audience embracing the duo at each shows end. Where do you see that? At YSL? No. Rather than break it down exit by exit I wanted to speak more to the heartbeat of the house. The collection speaks for itself.

Now is no time to look back, whether longingly or literally. The world is reminding us of that ugly fact minute by minute. The mission we all face in all aspects of life is to move ahead. Mrs. Vreeland said, "Don't give them what they want (or what they abhor) but what they didn't even know they wanted"! There's only one way to do that. IMAGINATION. INTEGRITY. HONESTY... and WORK.
graphics courtesy of Garnet Spagrud

Saint Laurent Fall2014: Toot Toot, Ahh, Beep Beep!

Fashion shows nowadays too often bring out the very worst in people. By people I mean the designer and the audience. A lazy, self absorbed designer is as unlikely to go that extra mile as is an audience so starved for anything resembling something new that they will cheer anything hanging from the shoulders of a model as long as it’s coming from a “brand “of note. This sheep mentality only encourages overpaid, under-achieving talents to do even less on an ever grander scale.

Hedi Slimane at Saint Laurent is a case in point. His collection for Fall2014 though more coherent than last season is again a parade of mod, Edie Sedgwick-inspired naughty, nasty girls that had their day when heroin addiction, cinematic bad behavior and self-destruction were the pre-requisites for 15 minutes of fame. Well that along with pet rocks, Opium perfume and Escher prints on your dorm room walls should be things of the past. The “Slim-mutts” or "Slum-mettes" take your pick, Hedi’s posse of bad girls, sulked down his runway with its golden beams that rose and fell hydraulically creating an alee’ one minute and a tunnel to nowhere the next were all parodies of naughtiness. These fetishized girl/women in their little leather skirts, micro-mini kilts, tights and multi-strapped Mary Janes were like a pack of zombies come back for blood. With enormous eyes, long lank hair and knobby knees, they made a valiant attempt at taking charge of the conversation, if the dull drone of mumbling counts as conversation…

Coats were best. Capes were redundant by then, as everyone had gotten the memo that capes were it. Little shift dresses in gold sequins with naïve abstract shapes tossed on them or as a jungle of animal prints came one after the other with little effect. They were too close to the regrettable little Baby Doll dresses of last season that looked poor. But considering Slimane is challenged to find novel ways to tell the one sliver of a story he has to share, there’s little else to trot out to drive home the point. Leather biker jackets took up some slack but not in any way that seemed new.

The furs were the most glaring items to raise the question of just what is luxury to the house of Saint Laurent. No Broadtail, Sable, Chinchilla or other exotic fur or skins were in evidence. Not one bit of croc was anywhere in evidence except one fawn colored mink  jacket, so pretty it stuck out like a sore thumb. It must have belonged to a model that refused to take it off. Otherwise, the coats and jackets were cut from “plates” of assembled fur scraps. These plates consist of bits and bobs from the bellies, tails, armpits, ears and butts of furs, in this instance sable. Many of those little pieces that make up this collage are paws. This is not a PETA rant, this is a CHEAP rant. One uses “plates” when one cannot use whole pelts to be assembled by master furriers. Plates are like a hunk of fabric to smack a pattern onto, cut away and sew up on any old machine. Like spam or headcheese, these furs were just conglomerations of scraps, and they looked like it; spam patties parading as Filet Mignon. “Road kill… from the ditch to the b…..” well you catch my drift.

The few variations on the classic Smoking saved the show, as did some interesting boots and bags, the only things showing any real value to my eye. The provocation that the clothes and petulant expressions of the girls created was still little more than an annoyance. Juxtaposed against a collection like Valentino's full of ideas, modernity, luxury and desirability, Saint Laurent had no such effect. Pierre Berge must be suffering in silence or we’d be hearing his rant by now.

In contrast, at the end of the Valentino show, Mr. Garavani and his partner Giancarlo Giametti are seen embracing the pair who are now at the helm of the house. Tears shared between the 4 of them and cheers from the audience were a stark contrast to the Saint Laurent proceedings whose front row was crammed with rockers passing around and guzzling magnums of champagne. But that’s the difference a ditch can make.

Oscar de la Renta Fall2013: Beginning at the end.

Such a curious collection. Before I get into it, the invitation of John Galliano to "sit in" on the final stages of this collection at Anna Wintour's urging and Oscar's acquiescence, was in itself a very daring prospect. Both designers are in essence at the end of their careers, Oscar due to his age and John due to his disgrace. Age is something that can not be turned back, but disgrace is something that can be remedied, even forgiven. To my thinking this was a soft pedaled attempt to reinstate Galliano to the only world he knows. What mystifies me is how a cross pollination of two such completely different species could produce something cohesive. Watching this show repeatedly, I couldn't help but think I was looking at a horse with a zebra's butt or vice versa. What the show did have was a lot of buzz. It was clearly the moment of the season with a front row that was unusually packed with the high, the medium and the bottom feeders. From Valentino Garavani and his partner Giancarlo Giametti to Anna Wintour, all the other lower tier editors and Fashion directors of the major stores to the likes of Rachel Zoe and her ilk, they were all there.

The music started with a creaky cover of "As time goes by"sung by Bryan Ferry setting the tone for what was meant to be an earth shift. Out came girls with high rise felt cloche hats over stringy hair with wispy ponytails and a series of draped and wrapped fischu-collared jackets in leather and cashmere over longer slim skirts and chic school marm shoes; all very sober, very sensible. The waists were caught with belts tied instead of buckled. (apparently, Galliano held a seminar at the studio as to how to correctly tie a belt, but from the looks of it no one took notes) From there the looks flipped back and forth between obvious Oscar-isms and then Galliano-isms like dueling designers. Granted the overall effect was more interesting with greater design energy than Oscar's last several seasons, but it was disjointed and chaotic. One moment there was a dowdy tweed suit, gently frayed along the edges with another annoyingly tied belt holding the jacket closed. Then came a series of Toile de Jouy printed dresses on matelasse that looked more like the result of Annette de la Renta's gentle urging. There were also other prints that were drawn from Coromandel screens trimmed in sable that looked forced and matronly in the larger picture.

Then Galliano took the ball and ran with it. Skin tight stretch leather pants under embroidered leather cardigans or YSL-ish hooded capes in chiffon and another in cashmere set yet another tone. The Oscar lady was left at the starting line and the race was on a different course altogether. Suits and coat dresses were draped and tucked in a very abstract way that were more feats of technique than anything else, clearly not an Oscar trademark. Soon it was cocktail hour and a few dresses came out that were lovely, particularly a black crepe number with illusion draped above the bodice. A Dior inspired strapless that exploded behind like a lovely chartreuse apparition from the past. An exquisite gown of black cut velvet and beads on a ground of nude net and chiffon was probably the prettiest gown of all. But then we were back to boisterous Ikat-printed cocktail dresses and gowns that fought for attention on a ground of enormous cabbage roses. That had to have been Oscar rebounding. Suddenly the models appeared with completely different hair and make-up in a series of gowns that were unmistakably John's. We were back to his bruised-eyed, marceled and greasy-haired courtesans sleep walking their way to oblivion. 

This was an old trope that didn't sit well, especially when the dresses were mere shadows of what one would expect from Galliano by way of the Dior ateliers. If that's the result of sobriety then maybe this was the end. Oscar finished off the show with 2 enormous faille gowns with silver embroidery a la Versailles in brash colors. The crowd looked confused as they ran for the doors. Valentino never altered his pursed lip expression and Anna remained inscrutable behind her shades. Maybe this was a dry run for a future as creative director of Oscar de la Renta if/when he decides to retire and then again maybe not. Who knows? The End.

*images courtesy of style.com    * video courtesy of OscardelaRenta TV